


Where Winter Falls and Dragons Rise

by theChatelainRouge



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Drama, F/M, I made the Dothraki Scottish, Intrigue, Maybe fluff, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Napoleonic Wars, No Incest, Pirates if you squint, Romance, Slow Burn, Wales, don't hate, maybe smut later, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25926415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theChatelainRouge/pseuds/theChatelainRouge
Summary: *New Chapter*  Captain Jon Snow of His Majesty's Royal Navy and a bastard of a great Northern house is discharged due to injuries following the Battle of Trafalgar. He hasn't been home in 6 years, but in that time he has lost his brother and father to war and disease, but little does he know he's lost much more than that. Nothing is as it should be. Will Jon find his family and reunite them and bring justice and honor back to the house of Stark? A house he doesn't even formally belong too. Will this mystery be his ending or his making? And will he meet his true destiny along the path?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From the artist formerly known as theRougeChevalier. Yes we are one in the same person I had an email account that was older than wifi and the server finally got shut down so I had to create a new account to continue my works! So please don't report me for copying this work is mine. 
> 
> The good news is that I have a new chapter for you all! Apologies for all the delays in the last two years I've had to contend against two moves, three jobs, and a pandemic not much time for writing. I can't promise more chapters will come fast but they will come. I don't intend to abandon this story. 
> 
> A Regency Drama done game of thrones style. Sorry but R+L=J is not canon in this story, I couldn't make it work for the plot or this time period, so Jon's mom is just an unknown. Dany doesn't show up in my plot summary but her part of the story will come into play later, promise.
> 
> If you like this idea and want to see more of the story please comment or leave kudos to keep me honest. I am a slow and oft times forgetful writer when it comes to multi-chapters, so your comments and kudos will keep me on track and motivated to finish.
> 
> Enjoy my Prologue!

February 1806, Greenwich Naval Hospital, London

The sun was warm, but the air was bitingly cold on the winter day that Jon stepped away from the naval hospital. It seemed he hadn’t been outside in forever, although in reality it could only have been a couple months, no more than four perhaps. ‘Four, no surely it felt much longer’ His stride was not as long nor as confident as it had once been and now instead of two steps he took three. The third being his cane, a daily necessity now, but the doctors had hope that with time he would grow strong enough to walk without it. He was still a young man after all.

It was a bright winter day and Jon could see his breath when he walked, he should be pleased at the pleasant weather, to be free from his hospital bed, and with good prospects for his health once more; but his mood was glum and somber and he found no joy in the day. He felt listless, because for the first time in a long time he did not know what would come next.

He had been discharged of his naval duties, no longer was he a man of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. No longer did he Captain his own crew and his own ship. No longer could he take sail at a moment’s notice, ready to fly upon the wind across the sea; seeking adventure and danger to serve King and Country or search for treasure. No more could he do those things.

He had been injured in one of the final great naval battles of the recently concluded ‘For now’, he thought ruefully, war with Napoleon’s France. In the heat of battle he had thought it little more than a grazing gunshot wound to the leg, but it had been more than that. The bullet sank deep into his flesh and he had suffered several other compounding injuries to the chest and abdomen from sword fights aboard ship. He had been in the hospital this last few months, kept abed by fever and infection. He was lucky to not lose his leg as the surgeons were able to remove the bullet, but his range of motion had become very limited. When the doctors told him he would be discharged, he protested, for even Admiral Nelson had served with one arm and surely the British Royal Navy needed every man they could spare for the battles to come.

But news broke in December of a tentative peace betwixt England and France. For how long no one really knew, Jon suspected not long, but until that time he would not be needed. Sent off with a cane and a grateful nation’s thanks for his service to live a private life, the first in many years.

He didn’t quite know what to do with himself, standing on the cold sidewalk in Greenwich, he had no one, no one in London anyway a few friends perhaps, comrades in arms, although he couldn’t bear to see them in his condition. He had more than enough money to keep himself comfortably in a hotel for the time being. But not having a purpose had never sat well with Jon Snow, it was why he left home in the first place.

He was the bastard son of a Great Northern Lord and as such would receive no inheritance; no duty, no prospects, and nothing else would ever come from having no name. But despite being a bastard his father loved him and was able to buy him a commission with the Royal Navy when he was but a young boy. He started as a young junior officer learning the ways of the sea, in his letters home he had told his brothers it was just like their tutoring sessions, but with the benefit of rolling seas; studying the winds and the stars, learning how to work the rigging and swab the deck, it all seemed a much grander adventure. And he had achieved so much more than an education, he had progressed through the ranks and eventually earned his own captaincy. That had been Jon’s proudest day. He had been an officer, Second Mate, serving under Captain Jeor Mormont on the 'Long Claw'.

Captain Mormont had admired Jon’s ingenuity in the battle and had awarded him with one of the captured French Privateers’ ships. He had named it 'Ghost'. It was as good as its name for all of Jon’s enemies would tell you that the way Jon sailed his ship, it would come upon you quick and quiet and deadly. You would never know he was there until you were under fire. He and his Ghost were legendary. He was respected by his colleagues, loved by his men and many of his enemies admired him. Those that lived anyway. But his family was a different matter.

His father was gone now. Lord Eddard Stark had passed almost 4 years ago of a fever. He hadn’t even been able to attend the funeral for he had been across the world when it happened. It took months for news to reach them in the southern seas and he didn’t even know it had happened until two months after.

His older brother Robb had died not more than a year later on a French battlefield and even then he knew he would not be welcome at his funeral. His stepmother would not have allowed it. It was no secret that there was no love lost between the two of them and she had not approved of Robb joining the army. As the Lord of Winterfell he had no need nor requirement to do his duty for His Majesty’s Armed Forces, but Robb never would or could have lived with himself if he had done nothing while others from his generation went off to fight England’s wars. When he had died a hero’s death in battle she had gone so far as to write Jon blaming him for his brother’s death all because of the foolish notions of honor and glory he had filled his letters with when he was growing up at sea. She had been fine with sending him off to the Royal Navy so young, so as not to have him around the estate, but her precious Robb was another matter.  
He had not held her anger against her for they both grieved just in different ways.

But as such he had not been home, if he could even call Winterfell his home, for a long long time. His last visit had perhaps been when he received his Captaincy. Jon had put in to port to get his new ship properly fitted and kitted and ridden home to see the family. But that had been before his father’s death, more than 6 years ago then.

But now he had seemingly no excuse, apart from his stepmother’s dislike of him not to visit, and the distance from London to Winterfell by carriage and the cool weather. All that aside he deeply wished to see his siblings again. His little sister Arya most of all, though she would be a woman grown now for sure. She was his favorite and he was unashamed of it. A fierce little thing whom all agreed should have been born a boy instead of a girl. If she had been he would have taken her upon his own ship as a mate by now and taught her how to sword fight. He knew she was keen to learn, they had played at knights and brigands enough as children for him to know that. When he came back to visit six years ago he had gifted her with a dagger and a few lessons on how to protect herself, he wished it could be a sword but his father would have thought it unseemly and his stepmother if she ever found out, would have forbade it with all vehemence.

As for his remaining brothers, who had been so young when he left home, and would still be quite young. Bran had fallen from horseback shortly after his last visit and according to Robb’s letters had barely survived. He was chair bound now, unable to walk; sickly and frail. The fact that he lived was a miracle that Robb attributed only to his mother’s will if nothing else. And Rickon who would have been but 8 or 9 when they’re father passed; it must be hard for them both without Robb or father around. The title and the land would have passed to Bran after Robb’s death, and even though Bran was feeble of body he was not of mind; sharp as a tack, he could manage well enough. Jon didn’t begrudge him any of it he only worried about the burden of the estate and the noble title upon such young shoulders. But, surely his mother would help him. Lady Catelyn had always been cold and strict with him, but she loved her children fiercely and was a stalwart woman in her own right; a force to be reckoned with who had managed the Winterfell estate for many years when Lord Eddard had been away, and Jon had no doubt she had seen to everything after his death as well.

He took a deep bracing breath.

That settled it then, whether his stepmother willed it or no, whether she welcomed him or no he knew he must go and check up on his siblings. He was the only elder brother they had now and as such he had an emotional duty to them if nothing else. He had been absent for much of their lives, but had written letters and sent gifts as often as he could and they had done the same. He smiled a little thinking that perhaps that was the only silver lining to this injury, he would now truly get to know his family. The thought of being close to them again put a little spring in his step, perhaps he wasn’t so purposeless after all.

His first stop would be his father’s Executor’s office, it wouldn’t due to catch Lady Catelyn unawares by arriving unannounced and so he would have one of the lawyers employed by his father’s estate send a message to Winterfell informing her of his intent to visit, it was only proper after all. He walked quickly to the nearest taxi stand and traveled by carriage across the bridge to the City of London offices of one Roderick and Sons. He arrived expecting that he would meet with old Sir Roderick himself; whom Jon had been well acquainted with in his youth. Besides being his father’s lawyer and business manager he was also a good and longtime friend of House Stark and had been a frequent visitor and guest throughout Jon’s childhood. He half raised the boys joining in with the hunting and riding and swordplay, and all the boyhood pursuits of young noblemen.

But when he arrived he was surprised to find that Roderick and Son was no longer run by Roderick or many of his sons. There seemed to be only one left. When Jon inquired as to when he might be able to meet with him and ask him to write a letter to Lady Stark on his behalf the secretary to whom he was speaking gave him a queer look and blinked and held his quill in midair. “Whom may I ask is inquiring?”

“Jon Snow,” He replied, “Captain Jon Snow. Late of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. I am Lady Stark’s Late Husband’s Son.”

“Ah.” The Secretary answered as though that explained everything, though it explained very little to Jon. Jon stared at him quizzically awaiting the epiphany answer the man clearly had.

The man’s face transferred into one of solemn sorrow. “My apologies sir, but Lady Stark has been dead, nearly two years now.”

Jon felt as if he had been shot all over again. “How?” He managed to get out although all his breath was gone.

“Some say of a broken heart, others suicide, what with the death of her son coming so close upon the heels of her husband’s. It seems she could not bear the burden of such sorrow.”

“That’s impossible.” Jon answered with all conviction. “She has other sons, other daughters, why would she do that?” Jon’s conviction swiftly turned to confusion, the whole world had gone pear shaped in an instant and his mind rang with a thousand questions.

“No one knows sir.”

“Well who is running the estate?” He inquired.

“The estate is closed sir.”

“What?”

The man flipped through a large book on his desk and responded. “Winterfell estate has been closed for the last few months. The heir Lord Brandon Stark is staying with his guardian.”

“Who is his guardian?” Jon’s mind raced with whom it could be. Surely his father had told him and Robb who would take care of the family should the worst happen? Obviously Robb was the natural choice as heir to look after the estate and all the family, but if the worst should happen to Robb….and it had….what then? And their mother gone too. He couldn’t think, he didn’t know. He tried to recall his father’s friends and comrades from wars past. Could it be Jory or Fat Tom? Fat Tom was little more than a servant, but still trustworthy.

So deep in thought was Jon he almost missed the answer. The secretary had been flipping furiously through papers before he looked up at him and said. “Why that would be Lord Petyr Baelish.”

He was not familiar with that name. “Who is Lord Petyr Baelish?!” He knew he sounded rude and churlish, but it couldn’t be helped, he was in the middle of a great shock and he felt as if with every question he was losing his grip on reality, his link to his siblings slipping further from his grasp. Nothing had ever scared him so much.

“Lord Petyr Baelish is a distinguished Lawyer sir and a close friend of Lady Stark. He was named guardian of the children by Lady Stark after her husband’s death.”

“A friend of Lady Stark?” Jon was certain he had never heard that name mentioned amongst family and it would be unlike Lady Catelyn to entrust the welfare of her sons to a new acquaintance. "Why would she not entrust the guardianship to Lord Roderick?" He asked pointedly. "Sir, Lord Roderick passed on not long after Lord Eddard and thereafter Lady Stark managed all her personal affairs through Lord Baelish's office. Roderick and Son's manage the estate only sir and since Lord Brandon was under age when his mother passed, the estate will remain closed and managed by us until his majority. Lord Baelish is only the boys' welfare guardian. He tried to petition the court to have the management rights turned over to him but...." The secretary stopped abruptly as he realized he had probably said to much and breached several privacy statutes. As he swallowed all he could think was that in his defense this man looked to fearsome in his wroth to be crossed.

“Just the boys? What of my sisters? Where are they?” Jon asked abruptly slamming his hand down on the desk.

The secretary blanched and squeaked as his desk bounced from the force. “I’m afraid I’ve already said too much sir, I can’t tell you anymore.”

Jon’s brow set in a hard line and his mouth to match as his whole body tensed. He was a Captain and was not used to his orders being disobeyed. “I will speak to your supervisor.”

The man went even paler. “But sir, that really won't be necess.....” He stuttered out only to be interrupted.

“Now.” Jon said in a gruff grunt of a command, quiet but more powerful than even his fist pounding the desk. The tone of the word sent the pale thin man skittering from his chair and down the hall to the back offices. Jon’s hand tightened around his cane and he squared his shoulders preparing for a fight.

‘Where are they? What happened to my family?' This morning he had been searching for a purpose, this was not the kind he had had in mind. More than anything he was angry with himself for not having tried to contact them sooner. He often wondered why there had been no response from the family when the Navy had sent his injury notice to Winterfell. He had assumed it was out of spite his stepmother ignored it. But he should have known when none of the children sent letters. Arya at least would have written had she known he was ill. 'I’ll find you. I'll find you all.’ He swore to himself in that moment ‘I promise.’


	2. Throwing the Dog a Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's search seems hopeless, but he finds help in an unexpected place.
> 
> The Plot Thickens!

Jon stared forlornly into his empty wine goblet, his second to be truthful, the flagon still resting at his elbow. It had been almost three weeks since he started his search for his siblings and he was getting nowhere. Three weeks since that day in Roderick and Sons when Eddard the youngest son of Roderick, now the proprietor and Jon’s father’s namesake came out to see what all the fuss was about when his secretary had burst into his office unannounced stuttering on about some irate naval officer and the Stark estate.  
Eddard only knew Jon by reputation as being the youngest he had not grown up with Jon as his brothers had, but his brothers were all gone to the wars most of them dead. He tried to assuage Jon’s fears saying that it would be against protocol to release any information about Lord Baelish or his whereabouts or that of his brothers, but he did reveal to Jon at least some information on Jon’s sisters.

Apparently Sansa had been wed, not long after her mother’s death, into a noble house, not just any noble house but one that boasted of the blood royal on both sides; the House Baratheon and the House Lannister, the eldest son and heir to Robert Baratheon, Joffrey.

Lord Robert Baratheon had been good friends with Eddard Stark as well, but had died many years ago in a hunting accident, he was a cousin to the royal family perhaps 10th or 11th in line for the throne. His sons even closer due to their mother’s own lineage. The Lannisters were an infamous house well known in royal and noble circles for their fierce nature, none were better at vengeance than the lions of Lannisters; many a lesser house had been destroyed with but a word from Lord Tywin Lannister and his daughter Cersei Baratheon nee Lannister.

Apparently shortly after Sansa’s wedding Arya had gone missing and there had been no sighting of her since.

Jon poured another glass of wine. He wished he knew where to look, but he didn’t even know where to begin and he knew that Arya was clever if she didn’t want to be found, no one would ever find her. But out of all his siblings he knew that she would be the most help. She would know what had happened and know where to find the others. She was clever and strong. He didn’t worry about her taking care of herself but he did miss her terribly and missed her help even more.

He had had no luck finding the boys either.

He had gotten as much information from Eddard Cassel as he was going to get without fisticuffs, but this wasn’t some island in the West Indies it was London and decorum held precedent here. It took more effort than he would have liked to reign himself in but he managed. After leaving Roderick and Sons, he quickly found and booked a room in an inn and had his things sent for from the hospital. Once settled in he immediately the next morning headed to the Office of Public Records. If this Baelish was a lord then there should be records there concerning his family name, titles and properties. However what he found was that Lord Baelish was not of the old nobility. He was a self-made man, Nuveau Riche as it were, he had no great house name or connections and as such no estate to track. As for his list of properties it was quite long. He could spend an eternity trying to narrow down which one of them housed his brothers.

After the Public Records Office he had hastily written several letters to friends, neighbors, and even servants of Winterfell in the North, begging information. Inquiring if any of them knew the truth of what had happened to Lady Catelyn and the whereabouts of any of his siblings. He knew he was grasping at straws waiting for a reply, but it was all he could do short of going to Winterfell himself. Which was quickly becoming the most viable option, the more Jon drank.

After writing his letters the next step had become clear to him, but it would take time, as protocol demanded. He had sent a note requesting a meeting with the Honorable Lord Joffrey Baratheon Son of Robert, Sansa’s husband. He had sent it through the proper channels but there was no telling how long it would take Joffrey’s secretary to address it with the young lord. All the note had said was that Jon wished leave from Lord Joffrey to call upon his sister the Lady Baratheon now that he was home from the wars. He had yet to receive a reply. Jon sighed as he finished his third cup of wine. Protocol and courtesy ruled this world of nobility, he had been raised to mind his manners and respect, rank, age, and station, but he couldn’t quite fathom what he was up against. Now more than ever he missed his crew, his saber, and the laws of the sea. Jon was an honorable man and had never used his power as captain or his men for his own gain, but in the face of the daunting task before him he would give anything to have his crew at his back.

While he awaited replies to his letters he had also discovered the fate of his ship and his crew, he had found that his good friend and mate Eddard Tollett had been named Captain of the Ghost by the Royal Navy in his stead. Jon could not have been more pleased that they had chosen someone so high in Jon’s trust and estimation. Not two weeks since his discharge from the naval hospital he had received a note from Ed asking to meet. Jon was more than eager to see some familiar faces from his old life as his new one was not going so well.

He and Ed had sat down for an ale at a portside bar in and amongst the common sailors. Jon had joined his men at such establishments before but always abroad, never on English soil where such fraternization would have been unseemly. But now he was not a ranking officer and could enjoy the ambiance of a salty sea pub with his men. While men of the Royal Navy and sailors of all kinds rabble roused around them he and Ed stood at a barrel with their drinks and Ed begged his permission to Captain Ghost.

“I don’t care what the Royal Navy says sir, I care what you say. You have put your blood, your sweat, your everything into this ship and I couldn’t take it from you.” Ed said in earnest.

“I guess you haven’t heard, I’ve been discharged. Ghost is not mine anymore. She is yours. I hold no grudge and wish you fair winds and following seas. I’m only sad I can’t sail anymore. I would love to be a Captain again….” He trailed off.

Ed chuckled good naturedly. “It’s ridiculous if you ask me, your discharge. We’ll be fighting old Bonaparte again before you know it and the Royal Navy is going to realize we need men like you to fight, hell every man we can get most like, cane and all.”

Jon smiled. “When that day comes I will happily answer the call. Perhaps they will give me a new ship or put me under your command.”

They laughed together at that. “Bloody unlikely that. I don’t even know how I came to have the command, I’m no one’s first choice, not even my own.”

“Well you’re mine and I trust you with the men. Take good care of them Ed. Where are they sending you next?”

“Ah down to Africa on some trade escort mission. Even with the supposed peace merchant ships feel uncomfortable traveling so close to the coast of Spain and around France without protection. So we have to hold their hands and guard their flanks all the way to North Africa I’m told. Makes me want to take up privateering.”

“It’ll be a breeze Ed, you like those trips where there is no action don’t you?”

“You’re right I do. Not that I’m complaining.”

Jon grinned into his ale. ‘Like Hell’ He thought. Ed was a champion at whinging.

Ed continued, “I mean it Jon, as far as I’m concerned you’ll always be the true Captain of the Ghost. Anything you need say the word and me and the men will make sure it’s done.”  
“All I ask is that on your voyages please keep your eyes and ears open for my sister.” Jon went on to explain his situation to Ed.

“Consider it done. We’ll ask in all the usual places and all of our old contacts. If we find her we’ll bring her straight back to you. How you going to find your lil brothers though?”

“I’ve written to my other sister, hopefully she knows. I’ve written all the old servants from Winterfell, I’ve done everything I can think of to do and yet I am no closer to finding them.”

“And if you find them what then?” Ed had asked taking a swig from his ale. Jon gave him a quizzical look. “Well you can’t just steal them away can you? If this Baelish feller is their guardian for true then it might be difficult to take them away. And where would you keep them if you took em? Maybe you plan on becoming a privateer yourself and keeping them in the West Indies somewhere?” He'd teased.

Jon frowned in remembrance of the conversation opting for another sip of wine. He still didn’t have an answer to Ed’s question. He didn’t have any plan past finding his brothers and sisters and getting them back to Winterfell. But Ed was right, he had neglected to realize all the legal inroads he would have to traverse to do that. Perhaps just seeing his brothers and sisters and knowing they were safe would be enough to sate him, but he very much doubted it. He had been so desperate for something to cling to from his old life that after his discharge being reunited with his half siblings seemed to be the only thing that mattered. But he needed to look to the future as well, but the thought of a future without the sea…Jon downed the rest of his wine and refused to dwell anymore. He was a man of action not of reflection. The drink gave him the incentive to say ‘the hell with protocol’ and he picked up his cane and made his way out of the tavern.

On wine and fury alone he managed to walk all the way to Regent’s Park and knocked upon the door of the stylish Baratheon Manor situated prominently amongst the other stately homes of this little corner of North London seemingly set aside for the close friends and confidantes of the King.

The door was opened by a butler. “Yes?” The man said blank faced, “I would like to speak with Lady Baratheon please, Lady Sansa Baratheon, I am her brother, Captain Jon Snow.”  
The butler blanched slightly at his statement but Jon only had a second to ponder why as the Butler was already grabbing the door once more positioning himself to close it quickly, Jon quickly stuck his cane out to block the door, thus far it seemed to be the only thing the blasted cane was good for.

The butler’s brow furrowed. “The Lady is not at home, and even if she were you are not her brother. She has but two and they are younger than you.”

“I’m her half brother and I’ve been out of the country for a long time. Please, I just want to ascertain if my siblings are well.”

The polite route didn’t seem to be working as the butler tried to pull the door closed past his cane, but Jon held fast. He could read frustration in the man’s face, but also a small twitch of the eye that Jon knew from his experience in battle meant fear.

“When will she be home? I wish to come call on her at a more appropriate time.”

“I’m sorry, but my lady has no time for your kind.”

Jon was used to the nobility teasing him about his bastardy, but though it had long stopped feeling like a slap didn’t mean it didn’t still sting. He leaned forward into the man’s space, time to find out the true source of that fear.

“She was my sister before she was your lady and if I can’t see her then I will insist on seeing your employer Lord Baratheon.”

The butler’s brow furrowed and he stiffened. “One moment.” The man held out his hand gesturing for Jon to stay in the doorway and he turned back down the foyer. Jon remained tensed, he didn’t expect it to be that easy.

And it wasn’t…the butler returned with a large burly man in a black jacket and green breeches with his hair loose, but it did nothing to conceal the ghastly burn across half his face.

The butler addressed the man “This gentlemen refuses to leave the premise.”

The man grunted and turned a cold grey stare on Jon he clenched his knuckles and without another word strolled forward with purpose. Jon clenched his cane and instinctively reached for a weapon that was not there. In an instant the man was on him with a firm hand on his shoulder pushing him out the door. Jon leaned his weight into the man.

“Time for you to go.” The large man growled out taking Jon’s cane from his hand and lifting him bodily by the lapel as he dragged him down the stairs.

“Wait! I just want to speak with my sister!” Jon’s journey towards the ground abruptly stopped as the man held him aloft and stared at him unblinkingly for a moment before shaking him. “Your sister?!”

“Lady Sansa St…Baratheon.” He breathed in a rush trying to pry the giant’s fingers from his lapel.

The man growled menacingly and took Jon’s shoulders in both hands continuing to drag him down the garden path towards the gate. Jon struggled, but his leg was beginning to ache with the effort and the man’s weight was not easily moved.

As they reached the gate the man threw him against the wrought iron bars and held him there. “Now that’s quite enough!” He growled out over his shoulder loud enough to be heard by the butler, when he leaned down Jon was almost afraid he was about to be punched or bitten.

“Sansa isn’t here.” He whispered instead. “She hasn’t been for months. The little bird ran away.”

Jon looked at him puzzled and jerked at his hands ineffectually. “What?” He stuttered out.

“Lord Joffrey is a prick to say the least and Sansa couldn’t take it anymore.” He shook Jon and called out loudly again. “Her Ladyship doesn’t want to see the likes of you!”  
“I tried to help her, but she was too afraid. Not that I blame her….” He paused looking thoughtful. He let Jon back down on his feet as he reached for the gate handle. “But the point is you have to find her and when you do keep her safe and away from here. Away from London.” He wrenched it open and dragged Jon through. Jon grabbed the man’s jacket in a desperate attempt to slow him down.

“Wait! Do you know where she is? Or where my brothers are?”

The man growled again for show…or so Jon hoped. “She’s not in London. I tried to track her, but can’t find her and I can find anyone in this city. If I were you I’d head North, she used to talk about staying with friends up there. I don’t know who’d harbor her though, the Lannisters are not a family to be trifled with. Check the poor houses along the canal routes to York.”

With one strong jerk Jon found himself tossed onto the cobblestones outside the gate and his cane tossed after him. “And stay out!” The scarred man shouted, but he stayed at the gate long enough to whisper. “As for your brothers, Sansa was only allowed to seem them once and Lord Baelish could have moved them by now, but when I escorted her to see them they were Baelish’s property ‘Queen’s Vale’ in Suffolk.”

Jon reached for his cane. His pride was bruised and thinking himself a proper fool for his drunken desperation, but he was exceedingly thankful to have met this brute, who provided him with more information than he had had previously.

“Thank you.” He mumbled as he stood.

The man snorted and waved a hand dismissively as he turned away, but as Jon dusted himself off the man turned back. “When you see her, tell the little…Lady Sansa, that the Hound still has her back.”

Jon nodded solemnly, “I will.”

The Hound, as Jon now assumed he was, stormed back towards the house slamming the door and shouting at the butler “Stop staring you fool and get back to work!”  
Jon took a few steps away from the house before continuing to set his coat and hat to rights and considering all he had learned.

Two sisters in the wind and a possible location for his brothers.

It seems his inclination to head North to Winterfell would be for the best after all. If Sansa sought refuge closer to home then she would definitely be headed to Yorkshire, but how could a young woman with little money make it all the way from London to Yorkshire on her own? Carriages cost money and they would never take a young woman alone. She could have been offered a ride by a canal boat, but not without cost. Truthfully neither was safe.

Sansa was strong willed, but naïve to the ways of the world. He didn’t want to fathom what kind of danger she would find out there. Arya would face the same dangers no doubt, but Arya could handle herself in a fight, Jon had made sure of that. Sansa however…she could be blown over by a strong breeze.  
He looked back towards the Baratheon mansion. Something terrible must have happened to force her to abandon all she knew and flee into the cold uncaring arms of the world. He clenched his hands around his cane.

She may not be in Yorkshire, but it was a good place to start. He would follow the Hound’s advice and seek the canal ways backwards towards London from there. First though, he acknowledged Ed was right. He couldn’t just rush in and take the boys and what would he do when he found Sansa? He had to be able to take care of them…and that’s when it hit him, Sam, he thought with a smile and a chuckle. How could he have forgotten dear Sam?

Samwell Tarly was a dear friend who had been commissioned on a ship like him as a boy, but not with hopes of becoming a sailor. He said it was his father’s hope that the sea would toughen him up and make him the heir he always wanted. But Sam was a hopeless sailor, a coward and a soft touch not to mention, always sea sick, but smart as a whip. After stepping in to save Sam from bullying once or twice he and Jon had become unlikely friends.

After a few years aboard ship Sam received a letter telling him he now had a little brother, one whom his father intended to raise to be the perfect heir and that Sam could now return home and go to school as he wished. It seemed Sam’s mother had convinced his father with the birth of another son that since Sam was no longer responsible for the family’s honor he should be allowed to do as he liked and go to university. It seems Lord Tarly was now appeased with the idea of his son being a lawyer someday. A typical profession for second sons of noble families.

Jon had been sorry to see Sam go, but knew that the sea was no place for him. Jon encouraged him to follow his dreams though and not to let anyone push him around and the two had remained friends. Sam was a prolific writer and faithfully sent letters to Jon and his other friends in the crew as often as possible.

He had even sent one to Jon while he was in hospital. His last letter said he was clerking for a lawyer’s office in Oxfordshire, true it wasn’t as glamorous as being a London high street lawyer, but he couldn’t bear to be parted from his beloved books and although his curriculum for law was already completed he was conducting advanced research with the university in his spare time.

Despite his oddities, Sam was the smartest person Jon knew and surely he would be willing to help Jon with all the legal hurdles of getting his kin back. Jon stabilized himself with his cane and headed off down the street again. He had a plan now and that was a bit more than he had before and with renewed determination he gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg and set off intent on making arrangements to head to Oxfordshire on the morrow. He would get help and then he would set off North in search of Sansa. There was no time to waste, although he and Sansa had never been close she was family and he couldn’t abandon her.

‘But first,’ he resolved thinking back on his interlude with the hound. ‘I need a weapon.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend lends a hand and a long journey finally provides a lead.

Three weeks later, Early April, In Route to Birmingham. 

The mist lay heavy along the river as the canal boat chugged its way towards Birmingham. Jon could only hope this new lead bore somewhat more fruit than the others. He had spent much of the last few weeks backtracking canals from Regent’s Park looking for tips on a red headed woman traveling alone. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Few people took notice of strangers in their day to day business and he had to be suspicious of every lead, unsure if they had really seen Sansa or someone else and be weary as to whether or not the information was even truthful as many expected compensation for their assistance. 

After weeks of trying he had located a kindly old canal boat man who said he remembered her because she reminded him of his own daughter. She had been a bit ragged and skittish, but she had told him she was trying to get North and he had offered to take her part of the way if she helped out around the boat. 

Jon had been glad to hear that his sister had been able to find at least one good and honest soul to help her without taking advantage. He had no way of knowing however what had happened to her before she met the man and after she left the Baratheon house. But he expected she had suffered much there already. Forcing those dark thoughts out of his mind lest he become angry with no outlet for it. 

She had agreed, but the canal man had said she was always frightened and jumpy at first. It had taken a few weeks of warm food and kind words before she felt safe and her smile blossomed once again. 

After a few weeks he had taken her as far as Birmingham, but his work required him to go no further and he must return to London. He offered to let her stay on the boat with him, continuing to work for board and shelter, offering her a small wage and protection if she had nowhere else to go. 

But she had declined insisting that she needed to get to Yorkshire and she would stay in Birmingham and get a job until she could earn enough money to get there.   
He had recommended a tavern, where he knew the owner, a hard sort of woman, but who might offer her honest work. 

So they had went their separate ways at the docks in Birmingham where he gave her enough money for a warm meal at the tavern and directions. He had not seen her since. 

After the man relayed his story Jon had asked if he could take him directly to the tavern he spoke of and the man had agreed. Jon had even paid to charter his canal boat for the journey so the man would not lose any salary due to the unscheduled return. 

Jon quite enjoyed the trip on the river, if not for the gravity of his mission he would admit that it was the most fun he had since before he was wounded. It was great being on the water again, even if it was only on the rivers and canals, he had permanent sea legs from too many years aboard ship and with his injury land was now more alien to him that even before. He was even able to help the man with docking and navigating the locks. It made him feel useful.

Maybe when all was said and done and he had found all his siblings and returned them to safety he would buy a canal boat of his own. According to Sam he had more than enough money to do so several times over. 

His trip to Oxford several weeks back had been very fruitful. He had arrived at a small lawyer’s office right off the high street to find his portly friend sitting at a lectern, reading and copying, his hand flying along like lightning. Jon had never seen his friend move so fast. He stood in the doorway just watching his friend with a smile for a bit before tapping his cane twice on the floor to get Sam’s attention. 

Sam didn’t even look up just stuttered out. “It’ll ll be just a moment, sir.” 

“Is that anyway to talk to an old friend?” Jon said in reply. Sam’s head snapped up and around so fast Jon was sure he would fall from his chair. 

“Jon!” Sam said breathlessly a huge grin breaking across his face. He then did practically fall from his chair in his haste to cross the room pulling Jon into a firm handshake and half embrace. “My friend! I’m so surprised to see you! All the way out here in Oxford.” 

“Well I must admit it’s not only for a friendly visit. But I am glad to see you all the same.” 

“Oh,” Sam cocked his head curiously. “Do you have business here in Oxford?” 

“Yes with you. Do you have time to speak with me?” 

“Oh of course of course. I was just about to take lunch would you join me?” 

“Certainly. I know a man of your fine taste probably knows the best pub in all of Oxford.” 

Sam laughed jollily in reply as he shrugged on his coat. “You’re right I do.” So off they went. 

It was in fact a very delicious lunch. Jon could always count on Sam’s appetite to lead him to the best of food. When they were young he was always able to scrounge up the best bits of food from nothing on the ship, even if all they had was hardtack and gruel he would always seem to find the freshest apple in the barrel or find a mouthful of warm bread on a cold night and squirrel it away to share with Jon. 

He was no less reliable now. 

They talked of pleasantries first. Condolences and sympathies from Sam about his wounds and the loss of his position. Whilst Jon asked him politely about his work and research.

“It’s all well and good I suppose. It’s just clerk work for now, but that’s probably best for me. As I am now I would probably die if I actually had to keep up and speak at the bench. My research is quite invigorating and I’ve I’ve…” Sam started to stutter as he told Jon about a lady friend he had made whom he was calling upon; Gilly she was a servant to great house in Oxford, a little bit lowborn for Sam’s father’s tastes but what Sam’s father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him just yet. Sam seemed quite taken with her.

Jon teased him about it good naturedly for a bit before he had to come to the point.   
“Sam I need your help.” 

“I figured that. I didn’t think you came all the way to Oxford to have lunch with me. I know I’m your friend, but I don’t know if I’m that good of a friend.” 

Jon chuckled. “Well you might be the only friend who can help me with this.” 

Jon began to unravel the tale of his step mother’s demise, his brothers’ disappearance and subsequently his sisters' and all the issues surrounding the estate and Baelish’s guardianship. “And more importantly Sam. If I do get the boys back and find my sisters what am I to do with them? I’m no fit guardian. I have no home, no job?” 

Sam looked at him quizzically. “Well you must have money don’t you?” 

Jon shrugged “A fair sum I suppose. It’s all kept in the royal bank. I have a checkbook for expenses. I’ve never needed much money. I’ve always been at sea and there isn’t much buying and selling going on in the middle of gun battles. I’m not much for the details with those sorts of things.” 

Sam looked as if he had swallowed his tongue. “But Jon money is so important especially if you intend to take care of your brothers and sisters.” 

“Yes yes I know, I’m seeking a financial advisor as well, but from you I need legal advice.” 

Sam laughed. “I’m not really a lawyer you know? Just a clerk.” 

“Yes, but you’ve studied the law and you’re the only one I’d trust with this.” 

Sam thought for a moment “Well, considering you are a blood relation, it should not be too hard to get a writ of guardianship for the boys, but you’ll have to be able to prove you can provide for them. The law does favor family in most cases. The court would normally put dependent children with blood relatives first, perhaps the only reason Baelish was able to be granted guardianship in the first place was because you were at sea and they had no other blood relatives old enough or living to be considered. Your sisters would not be eligible as they were young and unmarried at the time. I’m not sure who Baelish got your stepmother to name him guardian in her will, but if I can get a look at your father’s will perhaps I can use the terms of his to overrule Lady Catelyn’s.” 

“I’m sure I could get a copy of it from my father’s law firm.” Jon answered all the while thinking how much fun it would be to intimidate the clerk again. “But now we're back to the question of can I provide for them?”

Sam waved a hand and took a gulp of his beer. “Leave that to me as well. I have a pretty good head for numbers not just for words. I can meet you in London next week and we can go to the bank together and check your account balances. Then I can look at your father’s will and perhaps write up an action for the court. You could be the boys’ guardian by weeks’ end.” Sam said optimistically. 

“Yes but I still need to find them. I have one lead on where they might be, but I’m told Baelish has many properties and moves around a lot.” 

“Perhaps, his household moves, but as a high-powered lawyer most of his business is done in London. He must have an office in the city and we can track him to where he holds his lodgings. Gilly might even be able to help, she has family in London she visits, the last Sunday of every month. She could talk to his servants and find out where the boys are being kept.” 

Jon chuckled again. “Sam you are a genius.” 

Sam had been more help than he ever could have hoped for. Never had he had such good a friend. 

Good as his word, Sam had gone with him to the bank where they discovered that the Royal Navy had set Jon up rather well. He had a large checking account, stocks and bonds, as well as a not insubstantial savings. Some of the money was his severance and some from the little Jon’s father had left him, but most was from prizes and awards given for all his ships taken and battles won. Jon could be thankful they had given him that at least, though he would have traded it all to Captain his own ship again. But Sam was quick to remind him of the importance for the money to the court. He apparently had more than enough to prove financial responsibility all he needed now was a home and the court would surely be moved to consider him for guardianship. 

Jon didn’t know much about house hunting, but he did know that he didn’t want to bring the boys to London. Or Sansa for that matter. He had put the court battles on hold while he continued his search for her, while Gilly and Sam worked at finding the boys through the gossip circles in London Jon knew that Sansa would be in more danger and had to be found fast. The last thing he wanted was to bring her back within reach of the man who had hurt her in the first place and Arya would never come back to such a den of vipers either. 

So while Sam worked his magic, Jon had reached out to another old friend, well old enemy mores the like, for finding a home, somewhere he could stand to put down roots, far away from the intrigue and danger that had swept up his family. He would have to wait for Sam to forward his reply when it came through London, but he had never known the man in question to be false. 

So while Jon waited for the response from his letter to the West he continued his journey to Birmingham. When they finally reached Birmingham, Jon thanked the Captain, asked directions to the tavern to which his sister was sent and set off himself to find proper lodgings, for he knew that should he find Sansa he would want to be able to take her someplace safe and warm. 

He found a well-established hotel in downtown Birmingham and checked in. Once he had settled his things and freshened up he made his way to the tavern the boat Captain had told him about a place by the canals known as ‘The Maiden Fair’. Upon his arrival he noted that the tavern had seen fairer days indeed, in fact the sign itself was fading and it almost seemed to say ‘the Maiden Fat’ instead of the ‘Maiden Fair’. He walked in hoping beyond hope that Sansa was inside. 

He was met with the dreary atmosphere of a tavern at midday; smoke rings coming from the tables, sun light coming in from dusty glazed over windowpanes.   
Jon had been right that the tavern had seen better days as everything inside was well worn and out of fashion, explaining why it wasn’t very busy aside from a few loyal canal boatmen and merchants from out of town. 

He scanned the room with one hand on his cane the other on his saber which he had wasted no time digging out of his things after his run in with the hound. But he saw no red hair, but Jon would not be swayed so easily. He had come too far to give up at the doorstep of his first real lead. He walked slowly across the room, his two steps sounding like three to his ears as the tip of his cane tapped its own rhythm on the floorboards. 

He approached the bartender, a young man perhaps his age perhaps younger, but portly as Sam had been in his youth and asked to see the Tavern’s owner. The man pointed towards the kitchen and Jon began to make his way over to the door, but before he could even reach it a robust woman carrying a bin of dishes appeared through it slamming her bin on the end of the bar in somewhat of a huff and began shouting at the bartender. “Don’t just stand there with that dumb look on your face, help me with this!” In such a hurry was she, she all but slammed in to Jon as she rounded the bar seemingly intent on waiting on customers and shouting at the bartender at once. Jon stumbled and caught himself on a bar stool and the woman simply glared at him with contempt. She quickly gathered more dishes from a half empty table and waved off a customer awaiting a refill. 

“Well you takin a seat or ain’t ya?” She directed at Jon brusquely, mistaking him for little more than a wayward customer perhaps. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m looking for someone and I was hoping you could be of assistance?” 

“I don’t give that kind of assistance.” She said adding more dishes to her bin. “I’m short on staff and don’t have time for queries from up-jumped lordlings.” 

“I’m looking for my sister.” 

She seemed unmoved as she moved behind the bar and started to fill pints as the young bartender looking thoroughly chastised at having his job done for him. 

“What girl? We get lots of girls who come through here and if she’s the kind I think she is then she ain’t welcome here.” 

“No you see she was sent here by Old Tom? Her name would have been Sarah?” Jon had discovered during his journey that the Captain had only know Sansa by that name but suspected it wasn’t her own as most people on the canals didn’t go by their own and thus why he was only known as Old Tom. Jon was glad that Sansa had been smart enough not to travel under her own name.

“Oy Sarah! Oh that girl! This place wasn’t no good for her. She belonged in some sort of high manor. Just like you up-jumped. She did try though I give her that, but she wasn’t meant for this.” 

“Where is she? What happened to her?” Jon asked in earnest, feeling his skin go cold with the trail at every word from this woman’s mouth. 

“She worked here for a little bit, did alright at first. Good in the kitchen once she got used to get her hands dirty in the dish bin. But then one day one of me waitresses called in sick and I needed her to fill in, but she wasn’t made for it. Too timid, too jumpy. She dropped a whole bin of dishes just because a customer grabbed her arse. I told her she needed to toughen up, you need to just smack the hand away and get about your business. You’ll get used to it. But it only seemed to get worse. I do have to say that it wasn’t wholly her fault though the next time it happened to her. One day a customer got too friendly with her, got right in her face and she lost it and slapped him, that started a fight that did and I can’t have that in my establishment. She had to go.” 

“You kicked her out?” 

“I did, I was sorry to do it, but I can’t have that kind of behavior in my tavern. I understand that it’s not right and it’s not fair that they grab her the way they do but she shouldn’t retaliate. She should turn the other cheek that’s what the good book tells us to do.” 

Jon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That this woman had known the abuse his sister suffered at the hands of her customers and had done nothing but throw her out in the street. He gripped his cane tightly tamping down on the urge to shake some sense into this woman and shout at her.   
But he remained calm, he had not become a Captain in the Royal Navy by giving into his emotions so readily. Instead he asked, “When was this?” 

“I’d say about a month ago. I did give her some money when I kicked her out, I’m not totally heartless. I told her to get back to where she came from, go to her family if she had any. She was a quiet one, I didn’t know much about her, didn’t even know she had a brother. And now you’re here looking for her?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well after a month you might as well be checking the streets.” 

“Where could she have gone? Any idea?” 

“I don’t know about that sort of thing.” She huffed as if she hadn’t been the one to put Sansa in such a downtrodden and compromised position. 

He turned back to the bartender, he looked sheepish as if he would never admit to knowing where such women might go, disgraced and down on their luck. He gave the woman a sideways glanced before he shrugged. “Some hang out down by the canals others on the North bank down by the red light district. I can’t see a girl like her going to a place like that, but if she needed somewhere to stay…” He trailed off. 

“Thank you.” Jon said coolly in a measured tone. 

He looked back at the woman and stepped right into her space, he may have been able to keep his temper, but somethings had to be said. He pinned her with a cold stare. “You had better hope nothing bad has become of her, because if it has, I will be back for everything you own. And it will make you wish you had even a drop of human kindness in you. Good day.” 

He turned on his heel and left without another word. 

The woman felt a shiver go through her that frightened her to the bone, but by the time the door closed behind him she harrumphed in indignation pulling on her old familiar attitude again to shelter her from his lingering threat. “Can you believe the nerve of some people? Who does he think he is anyway?” She said to no one in particular. 

The bartender had also felt the iciness of his words from behind the bar and shook himself, “I wouldn’t cross him if I was you ma’am.”   
“Oy! You want to keep your position or not?! Get back to work!” She said bustling back to the kitchen with her bin. 

Meanwhile Jon was striding as fast as he could towards the red light district, the canals were farther from the respectable downtown area of Birmingham but not terribly far from the outer wards which housed the seedy parts of society. 

He couldn’t believe the nerve of that tavern wench. How could anyone be so heartless, so cruel? Jon thought he had known cruelty in his life, but it seemed that Sansa had suffered much worse than he. He only prayed that wherever she was she was that she was at least warm and safe. 

It was early afternoon so there weren’t many ladies out and about in the district, most of their trade took place in shadow during the late hours of the day and the early hours of the morning. The few he saw he questioned about Sansa, he questioned the beggars as well, but none of them could remember a specific red headed woman. Some of them could hardly respond so lost were they to hunger, sickness or addiction. He left each with some money for their time, he was aware that he was a target, sticking out in such a place as a well-dressed man with money when those who ran these streets had none. He continued his search long into the afternoon. 

As the last hours of light began to fall his hope was starting to flag, questions rising to his mind in rapid succession, perhaps she’d gone to York after all? Did she have enough money? A carriage was too expensive and Yorkshire too far? Perhaps she returned to the canals? 

He was just about to do the same when a gaggle of ladies caught his eye. They had all the tell-tale signs of their trade; heavy make up to hide their sallow cheeks and threadbare clothes designed for show rather than protection from the elements. They were huddled together with shawls for warmth, sharing a cigarette.   
His gut told him to approach them and he had learned to trust his instincts in the navy. 

“Good Evening ladies,” He said formally doffing his hat to them politely. 

“Well well well, a true gentlemen. How rare is that for Birmingham? Ay fella, are you looking for company?” One of them crooned sliding closer to him. 

“Sadly no.” He answered with a little smile. Jon had never been accused of being charming. The charm had been inherited by his brothers. He was far too brooding for wooing ladies, but he was no virgin either. “Actually I’m looking for my sister.” He decided to go with polite and forward, his years as an officer had drilled his manners into him, they were taught young that just because they spent much of their time away from society that the captain and his officers must serve as the example for their men that even at sea a leader must act with decorum.

“Oh your sister, eh?” They looked at one another and giggled. “What does this ‘sister’ look like?” 

It was clear they didn’t believe his story, but they were curious if nothing else, and gossip was what got whores through the day.

“She’s tall, with long bright red hair, blue eyes, freckles, very thin, pale skin. Her name is Sarah.” 

“Oh yes! Right Sarah! Our fire haired Sally. We know of her.” The nodded at one another in acknowledgement. 

“Do you? Does she work this street?” Jon asked awkwardly suppressing a shiver of disgust at the thought. 

“Oh no darling, she doesn’t work. She’s a beggar.” Said one with caramel skin. 

“Too good for this sorta life. It ain’t like she ain’t been offered though.” A few sniggered at that.

“Poor dear she get’s hassled all the time. She has to beat them off with a stick.” Said the older one. “Often enough she’s kind enough to point em in our direction so we give her a bit of bread and water every now and again.” 

“So you’ve seen her recently?” Jon tried and failed to suppress the hope in his voice. 

“Not in a week er two. It was cold in the end of March and she didn’t have anywhere to sleep and I think she must’ve caught cold.” 

Jon sucked in a breath. “Is there anywhere she would go? Or could go to take shelter perhaps or be seen too?” 

They hummed a moment and the one he had first spoken too blew out her smoke. “There’s a paupers hospital up the end of Cobble Way three streets up,” She nodded in the direction. “Little better than a drafty old dungeon. I’d rather go to a sanatorium meself.”

“Some of us go on occasion to get checked or to get medicine if we needs it.” The eldest said. 

Jon swallowed at the thought of the countless horrors his sister has been exposed too. ‘Father forgive me.’ He thought. 

He handed them a few coins and hastily bid them a good day, staggering up the hill in the direction they had indicated, his breath labored as he struggled to climb the street with his cane, his wound throbbing, but his adrenaline pushed him, the fear of being too late carrying him through the pain. All the while his mind raced, ‘If father were alive, if Robb were alive this never would have happened.’ This was a responsibility he had never expected nor prepared for and so far his obscene failure as the unlikely patriarch of the Stark family weighed heavily on him. 

He reached the hospital just as the sun was setting. It was not a pretty sight, it was overrun with the sickly, people lying on the floor, looking on deaths door, dirty and malnourished. No one stopped him as he walked in or asked him why he was there, it was clear what little staff there were were frantically trying to care for all their patients and paid little mind to a healthy and wealthy visitor. He took a look around the first ward he came upon, before he stopped a harried nurse with an arm full of blankets. “Excuse me ma’am, could you help me? I am looking for someone?” 

She sighed as if put upon by his request and he followed her as she rushed around handing out blankets to the shivering skeletons along the wall beside a window without glass. 

“Who are you looking for?” She asked shortly. 

“My sister. It has been brought to my attention that she has fallen upon hard times and I have reason to believe she is here.” 

“We have lots of people fallen on hard times here sir. What she looks like?” 

“Tall, thin, red hair, goes by the name of Sarah.” 

“Do you know what she was here for?” 

“I was told she had a cold or perhaps contracted something worse than that.” 

“Lots of things worse than a cold.” The nurse snorted in response. “I can’t recall a Sarah, but so many come and go here, and so fast.” She added solemnly with a sad look in her eyes that made Jon want to scream. ‘All is not lost.’ He told himself. “Check the second floor.” The nurse said nodding towards the stairs. “You’re free to look around.” She whirled away to continue her rounds, handing out blankets to patients most in need.

He belatedly nodded his thanks and slowly climbed the stairs, even on the landing the sight that met him was despairing. Children with their ribs showing, old men coughing up their lungs into handkerchiefs, others with diseases he couldn’t name or didn’t wish to contemplate much. He had been all over the world and seen many a plague and ailment. He had no wish to let his thoughts linger on such things any longer. Turning his thoughts back to his purpose, he turned right and walked down a short hallway into another long ward room of sorts. He turned his head from left to right as he entered scanning the beds searching for any sort of familiarity in their occupants. As he looked right a head of matted red hair met his eyes on the far bed nearest the wall. To both his horror and relief, there sat Sansa, huddled beneath a thin threadbare blanket, pale and thin and almost blue at her lips coughing so hard her whole body shook with the effort.

He wasted no time in going to her side. “Sansa!” He called out in a hurried breath of shock. 

She could barely breathe, but hearing her true name caused her to jerk her eyes up frantically, eyes wide with terror ready to bolt even in her weakened state, but when her eyes lit upon him they widened with recognition. Through a ragged breath he heard her whisper his name in desperation. “Jon” She reached out for him, but another cough over took her. He hurried to take her hands in his, they were cold and frail. “It’s alright Sansa, I’m here. I’m here now. I’m going to take care of you.” He said fervently pulling her close and rubbing her arms and back to warm her. 

“Jon” She breathed, but she could barely talk. “Don’t speak.” He said offering her a tin cup of water from the window sill. He encourage her to drink, hoping it would calm her coughing for a moment. He looked frantically around for the nurse or a doctor of some kind. 

She sputtered on her sip of water and as he patted her on the back a man came in, the doctor he assumed from his attire. “Doctor!” He called out “Doctor! Come quickly! My sister what is wrong with her?!” 

The man walked over unhurriedly, took one look at Sansa and sighed. “She has pneumonia, sleeping on the street isn’t good for anybody especially those weak from malnutrition.”

“What have you done for her?” Jon demanded 

The man motioned to the room around them. “As you can see sir I don’t have many resources to work with, I’ve given her water and a little bit of oil for her chest, but I don’t have what she needs here. This house is more of a place to die than a place for the ill to heal.” 

Jon rolled his eyes and set his mouth in his sternest Captain’s frown. This was truly unacceptable, it was the same sob story everywhere, same disregard for human life that he had seen in ports across the world. 

“You will call me a cab.” Jon directed as he removed his jacket to wrap Sansa in, she needed all the warmth she could get. 

The doctor looked at him as though he’d grown another head “What?” 

“A cab, you will call me a cab this instant. I am taking her out of this hell hole.” He growled as he bundled Sansa up and held her tight against another coughing spell. 

“Who are you to her sir?” The doctor asked affronted at being ordered about. 

“I am her brother and she is coming with me now.” 

“She is in no condition to travel.” 

“She needs a real doctor.” Jon snapped. “Since you cannot and will not help her I will find someone who will. Now the cab.” 

The doctor blew out a frustrated breath but stomped from the room to do as Jon bid. It would be no easy feat finding a hansom cab in this part of town, but there were plenty of young boys willing to run for one for a pence or two. 

“We’re getting you out of here, right now.” Jon told Sansa after the doctor left as he removed his coat and wrapped her in it. 

She looked up at him again, eyes soft and watery and managed a small smile. “Jon I’m so glad you’re here.” 

He had never expected to hear such words from Sansa, but she was delirious with pain and fever, he wondered if pneumonia were the only thing wrong with her. 

He knew Sansa was too weak to get up on her own, he would have to carry her. Without a second thought he picked up his cane and handed it to her. “Here, you’ll have to hold this for me. Hold it tight.” He instructed. She nodded and gripped it as tightly as she was able. He bent down and lifted her with one arm beneath her knees and another at her back. Although she was frightfully thin, as he lifted he could feel the strain in his injured leg, but chose to ignore it. His determination had got him this far and he knew from experience that now he would rely on adrenaline to see him through. He had found Sansa and she needed him and he was not going to fail her. 

He carried her down the stairs his leg throbbing with each step, Sansa’s wheezing worsening as they went. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs the cab was waiting. He gently loaded Sansa inside and without sparing the doctor a second glance told the cab driver to make for his hotel with all haste. They sped through the city, Jon holding Sansa close all the way. As they pulled up to the hotel the valet opened the door for them and Jon shouted at him “I need a doctor sent to my rooms immediately!” 

The valet hopped to whilst Jon pulled Sansa down from the carriage and carried her through the doors of the hotel. As he staggered through more staff took notice of the gentlemen struggling to carry the sick young woman through the lobby. The concierge rushed to his aid. “Sir, do you require assistance?” 

“I do, my sister is sick, I’ve called for a doctor, she will need hot water and blankets.” 

The maids rushed to acquire the items and prepare the room while the concierge helped Jon carry Sansa up the stairs, by the time they reached the room Sansa had succumbed to unconsciousness from the strain. Her wheeze was all that let Jon know she still lived. 

“What’s the matter with her sir?” One maid asked as she rushed to place a blanket over Sansa as he lay her down. “Pneumonia I think. But I won’t know for certain till the doctor comes.” 

“Steam is good for opening the lungs, I’ll fetch a kettle.” The maid said nodding at him reassuringly and rushing from the room. 

The doctor showed up soon after and shooed Jon from the room to complete his examination. 

Jon’s cane was back in his hands, but he could feel his leg throbbing as he leaned against the wall outside his room and prayed. Prayed to every god he had ever heard of. He’d never been a godly man, but if prayers were all that could save Sansa then he would ensure they were fervent and true. He also sent up prayers for Robb’s soul and for Arya’s safe return. But he also knew if the gods couldn’t or didn’t hear, it was on him to do it. To make it right. 

After a while the doctor came out of the room. He gave Jon a long look, a look Jon had seen before on the face of his ship's doctor, usually before the doctor was about to tell him that a man was lost. Jon didn't want to hear what the doctor had to say next, but he clenched his jaw and sat up straighter in his chair, for hear him he must.   
The doctor heaved a sigh and wiped his hands on a handkerchief. "You were right, it is pneumonia and it is very bad. She's lucky you called me when you did. I can't make any promises. But if she makes it through the night she might just stand a chance." 

Jon sighed quietly. It wasn't a full breath of relief but more than he usually gave himself. He couldn't believe he had even found her let alone that she was alive. He simply nodded at the doctor and shook his hand. "Thank you doctor. Whatever you need, whatever she needs, I will pay for its provision." 

"I shall go and fetch a few things from my clinic and be back in an hour or so. The maids have made her as comfortable as they can, cleaned her up and given her clean sheets and warm water bottles under her blankets. She'll need some sustenance. It appears she hasn't eaten in a while, but since she can barely breath let alone eat, so it'll have to be broth or tea until she regains some strength." 

"Thank you again Doctor." 

The door opened and the older maid came out. She had heard the end of their conversation as she offered Jon a smile and said "I'm off to fetch some good medicine, some good tea. Tea my mother used to give me and my siblings when we were young to keep us from getting the croup and we all survived to adulthood so it must be worth its weight." 

The doctor nodded. Jon was a bit surprised to find a doctor so willing to allow herbal home remedies, but in his experience the best doctors use whatever they have on hand to help their patients, so at least he knew he had a decent doctor. 

"May I see her?" He asked. 

The maid gave him a soft look, perhaps the sort of look a mother might give a child, though Jon had never known such a look. "She's delirious at the moment child. Coughing and hacking, the steam is helping some and hopefully she can get some sleep." 

"That's alright. I just want to watch over her. If I had been doing so from the start she wouldn't be in this situation." The woman smiled he could almost say approvingly and she nodded. "Go on in then, there is a chair by the bed." 

Jon hobbled into the room, his legs a little worse for wear from carrying Sansa, he spared a thought that perhaps he should have the doctor take a look at them to make sure he hadn't torn anything, but that could wait. All that mattered was Sansa's health and comfort and he would do anything to ensure it. 

He sat by her for hours simply watching her breath and cough and breath and cough. It was perhaps one of the most harrowing nights of his life. The doctor came and went the maids came and went. When they weren't around Jon would bathe her brow and help her swallow warm tea and brother and water when she could to keep her hydrated. By morning he had nodded off on the chair. He had long stripped off his coat and tie as the steam and the roaring fire made the room very warm.   
He was feeling stiff in the chair but he didn't want to leave her side for an instance, as the dawn light peaked through the windows he heard a soft sound, but he had always been a light sleeper so he woke instantly and shifted to sit forward in the chair to look at his sister. To his shock her eyes were open and she was gazing at him as if he were a dream. 

"Sansa." He said softly and knelt by the bed to squeeze her hand. 

"Jon?" The word was rough on her abused throat and sent her into a coughing fit, but it wasn't nearly the rasping wheeze it had been throughout the night and for that he was thankful. 

He gave her some warm tea to soothe her throat, Soon she was able to catch her breath and took a clear fortifying breath, stronger than previously. He dabbed her forehead and although he was no expert, he could almost believe that her fever was breaking. 

"You saved me." She whispered softly. "Thank you." 

Jon gave her a soft smile, one he had usually reserved for Arya when they were children. "It's nothing."

She returned the smile and squeezed his hand. "It's everything. You came when no one else could, you came." 

"I wish I had come sooner. But do not fear, from this moment on you are in my care. No one shall ever harm you again."

Sansa said nothing more in her exhaustion as she was still terribly weak, but favored him with a smile before drifting off to sleep, probably a more comfortable sleep than she had had in many a month knowing someone was there to watch over her.   
Jon watched her sleep a little and wondered on how he was going to keep his promise, how he was going to ensure she was protected. The truth was he had no idea how he was going to do that.


	4. Teaser Pre-Full Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fine lady contemplates her future and remembers her past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Chapter four teaser to show you I haven't forgotten Dany. We will get to her backstory soon but it will be a bit longer till our two lead characters cross paths. Enjoy!

Teaser

Cardiff Wales, March, 1806 

Dany sat in the parlor staring out the window at the street and the bay beyond it. She watched as the early morning sun started to cut through the fog, reflecting off the bay, a truly colossal feat it was, as it seemed that in this wretched country the sun almost never shined. 

Dany idly traced the cover of the book in her lap, for she had long stopped reading, she placed her hand by her tea cup on the small table by her rocker and fiddled with the dainty porcelain handle. At her feet her wolfhounds rolled around and played. They were quiet, but still managed to make their own little bit of fuss. She smiled indulgently at them and leaned down to pat their heads. 

They were her pride and joy. Really the only thing that remained of her old life. Her life had been ever changing for as long as she could remember, hardly ever finding any sort of peace. 

Now, here in this parlor, peaceful though her surroundings may be, her life was anything but. 

She always felt like her life was one great rush from one protector to another, never able to stand for herself. 

Her handmaids and advisors would tell her it was not her fault, it was simply the way of the world. There was nothing she could or couldn't do to make it her own. In a world run by men where women had very little right and very little power, her life was determined by the men around them. A fact she had known for quite some time. 

She didn't linger too much on thoughts of her past, as all the upheavals left her both feeling simultaneously overwhelmed and numb. 

She was still getting used to Cardiff and although the house she was staying in was very nice, it was not her own. As most things were not her own. 

Dany was staying with friends in Cardiff while she figured out what to do next. 

'I must find a husband' she thought to herself. The voice in her head that spoke was not her own, but that of her steward Jorah. 'It is the only way you can make a claim for your family land and fortune'. 

The truth was that if she were to live modestly, on the money left to her by her late husband she may be able to live out her days happy and alone in a cottage by the seaside. But it was more than the money that was the problem and the money she did have was not all that she was owed. 

She wonders sometimes why she did the things she did. For family, for honor, for survival? Was it all of those things? On any given day she wasn't quite sure. 

All she knew is that she longed to have more for herself. That's why her wolfhounds were so precious to her, they were hers and hers alone. She had raised them and seen them born, no one could take them from her. 

But they would not be able to keep her hale and hearty when her money ran out? Would they hunt for her?   
Perhaps. They were trained to hunt and they were vicious protectors but she would need more than that. 

"What do I want?" she thought to herself, but could not find a true answer. Independence, echoed in her mind but she swept it aside as impossible and refocused on the horizon hoping to find an achievable dream. She stared out at the sea the question rolling around in her mind, just words, words that rose and fell with the distant waves. 

She sipped her tea and sighed. "It matters not what I want. Jorah is right. I. need. a husband." As she listened to the clock bell chime she could only hope her next marriage would be more fortuitous than the last....


End file.
